Apple: The Forbidden Fruit Remix
by Green Owl
Summary: It's Ellie's turn to be tempted this time, and John still can't resist...Pairing: John & Ellie. Written for the JELLIE Shippers' "Carnival" challenge.
1. Heatstroke

Author's Note: Huge thanks to my dear friend Paul and the ladies of King Arthur Baking for tips, tricks and memories about caramel apples, and also to Sunshine Ali for her beta-reading.

Timeline: Between Seasons II & III

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I don't own or buy/sell/process this mindcrack - I just abuse the _hell_ out of it.

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><p>It was another one of those golden delicious Los Angeles afternoons when the carnival came to town, the kind that arrived at the tail-end of September when the heat let up long enough to make the air both crisp and buttery at the same time.<p>

The machines were worn and the paint was peeling, but thanks to the slanting rays of the late afternoon sun, the booths and rides had taken on the glamorous sheen of the Golden Age of Hollywood. The sight should have thrilled Ellie Bartowski with its quaint charm and faded beauty, but she was too busy trying to stay awake as she stood in line for the roller coaster with her strange little family: Devon (her husband), Chuck (her brother), Sarah (her brother's girlfriend), Morgan (her brother's best friend who considered Chuck to be his "brother from another mother"), and John Casey, the very tall, very quiet, very puzzling neighbor who Chuck had invited to join them.

Ellie loved puzzles. She thrived on them. She had to if she wanted to be any good at her chosen field. Being able to start the breathing, stop the bleeding, keep the body going when all it wanted to do was give up and shut down – it required the ability to take in all of the available information in one rushed moment, choose one's tools and charge headlong into the never-ending battle against death. And she was good at her job, better than most of her med school classmates, best in her ER at staying alert and focused in the most hectic of situations.

Unfortunately, this was not one of those moments. Her long work hours had finally caught up with her and as she closed her eyes, her equilibrium began to shift past the point of correction. She put her hand out to reach for her husband. He would catch her if she fell.

No such luck. Devon was too busy recounting his latest adventure to a captive Chuck and a captivated Morgan ("free running through the South Coast Plaza–Sears-to-Saks, three levels, during the Memorial Day blowout – _awesome!_") to see her sag against John Casey.

She should have pulled away immediately, should have put some distance between her body and his, but she was weary, he was solid, and it had been a very long day. She sighed as she turned to rest her cheek more comfortably against the soft, worn cotton that stretched across the broad expanse of his broad back. All she wanted to do was to nestle into the hollow between his shoulderblades and go to sleep.

_Gosh, he smells nice…mmm…Old Spice?_

"Um, Ellie, you okay back there?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry!" she apologized, smarting at the synchronized sting of awkwardness and adrenaline as she raised her head and stifled a yawn.

"No problem," he said as he reached out to steady her.

Another time or place and she might have declined, but she was too tired to turn him down. She placed her hand on his and took a moment to adjust her balance as they shuffled a few more inches towards the platform. "Thanks. I never was very good at getting out of the 'narcoleptic mare' yoga pose."

John nodded sympathetically. "Work a double again?"

"Third time this week," Ellie replied, fighting the urge to let the tide of shuffling bodies wash her up against him. She wanted her bed, but in the absence of her Serta Perfect Sleeper, she'd be more than willing to curl up on one of the benches. "I could sleep right here."

"I know the feeling," he agreed.

The crowd surged again and she swayed towards him to avoid a pair of teenage boys who had started to shove each other. "You do?"

"Yeah," John nodded, but he didn't elaborate as hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and rolled his head slowly, popping his spine twice as he gazed off into the distance.

Ellie was silent as she wondered what had happened to cause the thousand-yard stare she glimpsed behind his sunglasses. He was usually so focused when he was talking to her, but there were moments like these when she wondered if he even knew she was there.

She shoved her hands into her pockets to keep from acting on her urge to rub his back. What was this compulsion to put her hands on him? Was it her ER training taking over, trying to soothe his worries away as she attempted to diagnose his problems?

His gaze met hers. She thought that he was about to say something, but his expression shifted abruptly as he hauled her up against his chest. She didn't have time to react as he turned to take the brunt of an unanticipated impact by shielding her body with his.

Groggy and curious, she craned her neck around his upper arm to see what had happened: the shoving match between the two boys had now escalated into rough-housing territory. If John hadn't intervened, she would have probably ended up eating gum-smeared, bacteria-infested pavement. _Ewww!_

"Hey!" John barked at the teenagers as he snapped off his sunglasses with his free hand.

Ellie hid her smile in his sleeve as both of them snapped to attention like a pair of naughty Cub Scouts.

"Save it for the bumper cars," he commanded.

"Yes, sir!" the bigger one said, his voice cracking.

"Whoa, Casey, good save!" Devon called out, giving two thumbs up and his huge, Chiclet-white grin. "Awesome!"

John acknowledged her husband's "attaboy!" with a slow nod, but his eyes never left Ellie's as he gently set her back on her feet.

She found her balance, but she also found herself struggling to breathe, as if she'd gone scuba diving without enough oxygen and was now drowning in the blistering blue of his eyes. Her voice was husky as the heels of her palms came to rest on the lower edge of his ribcage. "Thanks, again."

"Any time," he replied, his eyes locked on hers for a moment before he hid them once more behind his mirrored shades.

"Sheesh, get a room!" the smaller of the teenage boys snarked under his breath.

Ellie ignored them as her fingers splayed out on John's external obliques. She was too worn-out to worry about what they were insinuating, or pay much attention to anything beyond the stray thought that his hands were still pressing on her latissimi dorsi.

She closed her eyes and rocked forward again.

_He has such nice hands…_

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><p>When Ellie regained consciousness, she found that she was sitting on a very crowded bench near the wooden coaster. "Wh – huh?"<p>

Correction: John was the one sitting on the bench. She was sitting on his lap, her head resting against his shoulder, as he attempted to cool her down by applying a chilled bottle of water to her skin.

"You fainted. Heatstroke," he explained quietly. "Drink?"

"Yes, please." She reached for the bottle and started to chug the cool liquid, but he put his left hand over her right and lowered them slowly.

"Small swallows, not big gulps. When was the last time you ate?"

Ellie took a sip and a moment to think. "Last night?"

He smiled and she felt his chest shake.

"Why are you laughing?" she asked as she maneuvered herself onto a newly vacated spot next to him.

"You're a doctor," he replied. "You should know better."

"I was on call until an hour ago, and Devon wanted to go on the rollercoasters," she explained as she looked around. "Where is Devon?"

John pointed skywards.

Her husband, her brother, his girlfriend, and Morgan were wedged into a pair of cars, flying along the rollercoaster tracks at what looked like Mach 2. The wooden support struts shook so hard each time the coaster went into a drop that it felt like an miniature earthquake. Ellie shivered as she pressed the bottle to her forehead and let the condensation drip down the side of her face. "I am so glad I'm not on that thing right now."

"Not a fan?"

"Not at all."

"Then why were you in line?" he asked.

She shrugged. "He's my husband."

John's lips compressed. "Hungry?"

Her stomach rumbled in response.

"That's affirmative,'" he commented as he stood up. "What do you want?"

Her eyes scanned the available food booths as she stretched out a leg to access the cash in her front pocket. "I'd love a corndog. Yellow mustard, please. No relish or ketchup."

He waved away the twenty-dollar bill she offered him. "I got this. Just sit tight."

"Yes, sir," Ellie said as she stuffed the money back into her pocket.

"Good girl," he said, patting her knee and giving her another one of those unfathomable half-smiles as he got up.

"Damn, that man is _fine_," a teenager next to her announced as they watched John walk away.

_Oh, yeah_, Ellie agreed silently, nodding as she raised the bottle to her lips and took a long, slow swallow.


	2. Hesitation

Author's Note: Huge thanks to my dear friend Paul and the ladies of King Arthur Baking for tips, tricks and memories about caramel apples, and also to Sunshine Ali for her beta-reading.

Timeline: Between Seasons II & III

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I don't own or buy/sell/process this mindcrack - I just abuse the _hell_ out of it.

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><p>"Hey, babe, how ya feelin'?" Devon asked as he crouched down in front of his wife.<p>

"Exhausted," Ellie replied before biting into her corndog.

He put a hand on one of her knees. "I'm sorry I dragged you out to this thing."

"I'm fine," she protested, "just not quite up to going on rollercoasters right now."

"Do you want to go home?" Chuck asked as he offered her some of his funnel cake.

"No, thanks," Ellie said. "We just got here. I'll take it easy, eat some greasy food, lose some money playing a few of those rigged games, maybe ride the Teacups. Go, skedaddle, have a good time."

"That'll leave us with an odd number for the rides," Morgan observed through a mouthful of cotton candy. "Bad karma."

"I'll stay behind," John said as he plucked a bit of blue fluff from the immense paper cone Morgan was clenching in his hairy little fist and offered it to Ellie. "That should make it even."

Ellie nodded her thanks as she nipped the candy floss from his fingers.

"Are you sure?" Chuck asked, giving his sister, and then John, an odd, uncertain look.

John nodded. "Yes, four is an even number the last time I checked."

Ellie stifled a giggle. "Chuck, I'll be fine, really. John'll take care of me."

All heads swiveled towards John Casey.

Sarah's eyes widened as she choked down a piece of funnel cake. "You will?"

John's eyes were hidden by his sunglasses, but his expression was neutral. "Sure."

Devon stood up and placed a hand on John's shoulder. "Thanks for takin' one for the team, bro. You're a real hero."

John answered him with a noncommittal grunt.

"Just be careful, okay?" Devon said, leaning in and dropping his voice. "She can be a real handful, especially when she's had too much sugar."

Ellie would have cheerfully flipped her darling husband a double eagle salute, but she was too busy double-fisting it with her corndog and bottle of water. "I heard that."

"Sorry, babe, but you know it's true," Devon replied with a laid-back grin.

Ellie rolled her eyes, and her gaze came to rest on John's hands. The sunlight made love every curve and facet of the ring he wore on the right one as he cracked his knuckles one-by-one. The image of her husband laid out flat on his back with a good, solid punch, courtesy of her man of mystery, made her shoulders began to shake.

"Uh-oh, Ellie's got the giggles," Chuck announced.

Morgan peered at Ellie from behind his cotton candy. "And any moment now we'll be heading into hiccup territory."

"I hate – _hic!_ – all of you," Ellie retorted around a mouthful of mustard-slathered corndog. "You can all go to – _hic!_ – hell."

Morgan and Chuck looked at each other and nodded in mute unison.

"Good luck, man," Devon said to John before turning to Ellie. "Love you."

"Bite me – _hic!_" Ellie retorted.

"Soon as we get home," Devon vowed with a wink and peck on her cheek. "All right, we've refueled – onto the Tilt-a-Whirl!"

John turned his attention to Ellie as the other four left.

"Sarah Palin, President of the United States of America," he said without preamble.

Ellie cringed as she made a sound somewhere between a burp and a cough. "Ewww! Mental sani-wipe, stat!"

"Just trying to scare 'em away," John replied as he pretended to spritz her forehead and swab it clean.

"Well, it worked, Superman," she replied, shuddering as she eyed the wooden stick that held the remnants of her snack. "I think just lost my appetite."

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><p>"Do you want to go home?" John asked as they ambled along the lane featuring the food booths.<p>

"Nope," Ellie admitted, eyeing a stall that advertised "Hella Good!" fusion fries. "Just want to get away from the crowd for awhile."

"I know the feeling," he said again.

She glanced over at him and that look was back on his face. She slid her hand into his and squeezed gently. "Hey, none of that, okay? We're here to have 'a good time,' remember?"

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Why do I hear quote marks around that last phrase?"

"Because you're 'smarter than the average bear'?" she mock-simpered.

"Hey there, Boo Boo, you still hungry?" he asked, pitching his voice low as he played along.

"Yes," she confessed as her eyes came to rest on a sweets booth and she sprawled against him. "Oh, my!"

John looped an arm around her waist, holding her up as he brought her closer to the counter.

"But Yogi," Ellie cautioned as her mouth began to water, "Mr. Ranger's not gonna like this."

"It's got at least two of the four food groups covered," John replied as he indicated what he wanted.

"You could sweet-talk a saint into sinning," she told him as he completed the transaction.

"Consider it payback for that Halloween present you gave me when I first moved in," John said as he presented her with the item he'd purchased.

"I am never going to hear the end of it if Devon finds out about this." Ellie bit her lip. "Can you keep a secret?"

John's mouth twisted with amusement as he grunted. "Um, yeah."

"Good, so can I," she whispered as her hand closed around his gift. "Now let's get out of here!"

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><p>"<em>Mmmm…<em>"

"Good?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," Ellie murmured as the soft summer breeze wafted a strand of hair away from her face. "Don't you dare stop."

"Yes, ma'am," John replied, as he continued to apply pressure in all the right places as they rose high above the carnival grounds.

Somewhere between the dime pitch and the ring toss, he had gotten the brilliant idea of making a prolonged pit stop on the Ferris wheel. Five seconds and fifty bucks later, he had deposited her across from himself in the first available passenger cab and they began their circular recess from the masses.

They were now on the last of the seven consecutive rides he'd bought for them and the sun was slowly sinking into the horizon. She was keeping herself occupied by devouring what was left of the pecan, chocolate and caramel-covered apple he'd bought her. He was lounging on the other side across from her, massaging a certain portion of her anatomy that had been aching for a very long time.

She'd had an instant of hesitation when he'd first lifted her feet onto his lap.

"You don't have to – "

"Would you rather I didn't?" he asked, holding one of her slender ankles between his massive palms.

She bit her lip as she struggled to figure out why she was reluctant to let him touch that part of her.

On the one hand, it didn't occur to her as odd to let strangers handle her feet because she treated herself to a pedicure once a month at the Beauty Box on Sunset Boulevard. It was no big deal, just her attempt to pamper herself a little while also making sure that her toes looked nice in sandals. Admittedly, Ellie usually had her head buried in a magazine during the entire procedure, and the person who massaged her lower extremities was invariably a woman, so it wasn't like she could close her eyes and pretend that John Casey was preparing to paint daisies on her toes.

On the other hand, it required a great deal of trust on her part to allow anyone to touch that part of her body because she was extremely ticklish. It had taken her months to let Devon to give it a try, and when he did rub her feet, it was a bit of a let-down. In truth, it kind of turned her off because he did it like he did everything in life, with a great deal of unwarranted enthusiasm, heavy-handed innuendo, and self-congratulatory smugness.

There was no mystery to her husband's motives when it came to showing her affection. Like everything he did that was thoughtful or kind, it seemed more of a way for him to prove how "awesome" he was than an expression of his love for her. In contrast, here was laconic, unpretentious John Casey, offering to rub her feet for no other reason than he wanted her to lie back, loosen up, and let him take care of her. He'd always been respectful and considerate, and she had no reason to think that he would ever do anything inappropriate if she gave him permission to touch her. The only thing stopping her was how concerned she was at how content he made her feel.

Ellie's cheeks grew warm as she fumbled with the apple's wrapping. "Promise you won't tickle me?"

"Scout's honor," John replied, his face impassive as he lifted one hand and folded his thumb and pinkie fingers down.

She consented with a nod, but that didn't stop her from applying a white-knuckled grip to the edge of her seat with her free hand as he undid her sandal and placed it on the seat next to him.

"Relax," he ordered as he cupped her ankle in one hand, massaging her Achilles tendon between his thumb and forefinger while slowly flexing her foot back towards her with the other. "I know what I'm doing."

_Oh, yes_, she agreed silently as she felt her hesitation and her body melt into a hazy puddle of pure bliss. _Oh, yes, you do..._


End file.
